Of Summer, Fate, and Circumstance
by IrinaWithAnI
Summary: After failing to fulfill Voldemort's orders, Draco is tortured by Death Eaters. When the Order rescues him, how will he act around the Trio? How will Hermione react to Draco? And who will betray them all? Slash HD! Prequel to Their Final Summer.
1. The Prisoner

**Disclaimer**: Wish I owned it, but alas, I do not. Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to J.K. Rowling. That lucky woman...

**A/N**: This is my second fanfiction story ever so please be nice :) . It's the full-length prequel to "Their Final Summer". Thanks to my beta, nycegurl, and Oscar for extra beta work.

**Warning**: This will eventually be slash!

"Of Summer, Fate, and Circumstance"

Chapter 1: The Prisoner

It was pitch black. A thin teenage boy slowly opened his gray eyes and noticed that fact immediately. There was no difference between what he could see with eyes open and eyes closed.

His blonde hair, normally groomed to perfection, was thick with sweat and flattened unceremoniously against his delicate skull. He felt absolutely disgusting and automatically wondered how he had let himself go so quickly.

Deprived of vision, the boy inched his head upwards to take an identifying whiff of his surroundings and immediately grimaced with regret. The air was frigid and dank, smelling like breath so rotten that it could only belong to the dead. The stench was unbearable, but more than that, he found that it was incredibly difficult for him to lift his head. He also found that he could not feel much of his body.

Bewildered and frightened, with no memories to help explain the situation, the boy tried to shrug his shoulders, to twist his hips, to move his legs, anything at all that could produce movement.

_My legs are tied! _Realization dawned brutally.

Frantic, he tried flailing his arms and realized that they were tied as well…above his head.

_I'm hanging from something…what's this…from a hook!_

The beautiful boy, of dignified and pure-blooded breeding, was hanging in a most undignified way.

_I'm a prisoner!_

Panic taking over his delicate body, he opened his full lips and tried to scream, to yell for help. However, he found his throat parched, and that he could only rasp out a few whispers before collapsing into a vicious coughing fit.

He panicked for hours, regaining feeling in all his body parts as he attempted to free himself, albeit quite in vain. Eventually, the boy ran out of energy and ran out of hope.

_No one is going to come…_

He let his body relax, sweat pouring down his forehead and thin (but toned) arms in rivulets as he hung with despair in the air that smelt of the same emotion.

The boy let his head loll to his right shoulder as best he could, considering his range of motion was rather limited. He began to drift off into a fitful sleep…

Click. Click. Click.

He immediately raised his head at the familiar sound.

Click. Click. Click.

_That sounds like footsteps made by an impatient foot…a foot in boots with a steel heel, clicking against a cement floor. _

The boy heard a squeaking noise as a rusty door suddenly opened and a sliver of light from the outside hallway escaped into the dungeon prison.

The sliver of light illuminated the visitor, a tall man with a wide forehead and platinum blonde hair. He carried himself with an air of superiority, his long thin nose thrust high above and pursed pale lips protruding from the angular face. His eyes appeared silver in the light and colder than the dungeon temperature.

"Draco Malfoy", a silky but threatening voice uttered from the pale lips of their pale owner.

"Father?!," Draco exclaimed as best he could with whatever was left of his voice.

"Well, well, well," Lucius Malfoy tutted, still dangerously enunciating every syllable.

"F..fa..father! Someone is holding me prisoner! Please, get me down, we must go after them!"

The older man shook his blonde head, a frown permanently frozen on his pursed lips.

"You always manage to disappoint me, Draco. A simple task, it was. He was practically dead anyway."

Like a wave breaking upon the surface of the ocean, it all came crashing back to Draco Malfoy.

_The astronomy tower…Dumbledore…I couldn't kill Dumbledore. But…why am I here? And where am I?_

"W…where am I?" Draco managed to stutter.

"Why, Malfoy Manor, of course. Or have you forgotten your many pleasant nights in this dungeon, as a child, when you failed at everything I asked of you?"

Draco's throat slowly filled with bile as the memories of his childhood clouded his eyes. He gave a visible shudder, to which Lucius finally allowed a cruel smile to grace his face. The smile did not reach his eyes, unfortunately.

"Of course you remember", whispered the deadly voice. "And I see you've decided to continue your childhood trend".

Draco stared at Lucius in utter incomprehension. He opened his mouth to ask his father exactly why he was in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, hanging from a hook, but he was abruptly cut off by the cold cruel voice of the Death Eater.

"You have disgraced the Malfoy name for the last time, dear _son. _You are in the Dark Lord's clutches now, and I dare say he will teach you quite a lesson, a lesson I'm disappointed to say that I will not be able to teach you myself. You will learn to never disobey us again. _Enjoy your stay_", Lucius hissed vehemently at the boy.

Lucius Malfoy took one steel-heeled step towards his son and spat in his face, a disgusted look passing over his iced features. Seconds later, he whirled around, an impassive mask replacing the unusual display of emotions that had marred his face just moments before. Gracefully, the prominent Death Eater strode to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

"Wormtail will be here shortly with your meal. And then…well…I'm sure the Dark Lord is anxious _to have a few words with you."_

With those ominous words, Lucius Malfoy left his son in dungeon darkness, shutting the door and taking with him the precious light Draco had never fully appreciated before.

Draco felt the warm spit slowly sliding down his face as he grimaced with disgust. His stomach turned suddenly and he retched, catching his insides on his weakened chest instead of the floor.

His father's words hung in the frigid air, threatening to freeze the room over. Draco thought about, realizing with dread the urgency of the situation.

He was a prisoner in his own house, a prisoner of his father, and a prisoner of Lord Voldemort. He had failed at the one task that could have secured his future as the Dark Lord's second right hand man. _But why? Why couldn't I kill Dumbledore?_

Draco remembered the old man with disdain. Those twinkling blue eyes had never turned warmly to him, not like they did to the other Hogwarts students, not like they did to the Golden Trio.

Draco wiped his dripping mouth on his shoulder as best he could, feeling the saliva build up again underneath his pink tongue. _Sure I disliked him, but I never hated him enough to kill him. I couldn't do it. Or maybe…maybe I'm just weak. _

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Draco blinked in the darkness. He had heard a strange shuffling sound and an odd squeaking noise, but the door had not been opened again. The blonde stared about him in vain, straining to see if there was someone new in the room. His gray eyes had not yet adjusted enough, although he would require much more light if he wanted to see anything even when they did adjust.

As he turned his head to gaze in the general direction of where the noise came from, two beady eyes blinked in his direction.

Draco scowled, trying to maintain an aristocratic Master-of-Malfoy-Manor presence in front of the rat-like person that he knew was usually too frightened to approach him.

"Mm..Mm…Mister Ma-alfoy. I have your meal." Wormtail shuffled closer and lit his wand.

Draco saw a platter in his small chubby hand, containing a bowl of some sort of gray gruel with a glue-like consistency.

The young Malfoy sneered. "Always the lackey, huh Wormtail? No matter what you do, you're still just his lapdog" he spat at the small man, who jumped at the sound of the cold Malfoy drawl.

Wormtail frowned at the bait, but he didn't bite.

"I suggest you eat, Mr. Malfoy" he squeaked with as much courage he could muster as he cast a spell to make the spoon self-feed the prisoner. "You shall need your strength."

Draco opened his mouth with trepidation to accept the hovering spoon and immediately regretted his decision. He spat out the foul-tasting mouthful at Wormtail's feet. Wormtail trailed his small beady eyes down towards where the gruel lay by his leather shoes and shrugged. He turned on his heel and walked towards the wall nearest to the door. Whispering the counter spell to turn off the dim light coming from his wand, he gave a small wave to the boy hanging in the dungeon and then there was blackness.

Draco, however, did not hear the door open or see any light enter the prison cell. _There must be a mouse hole somewhere along that wall._

The young Malfoy boy sighed and refused to take another spoonful of the unappetizing gray matter. The spoon began to vibrate when he didn't open his mouth, almost in anger. Finally, it reeled back and pelted Draco with the mess, not caring whether he received it in the mouth or not.

He blinked and hung his head, resigned to waiting for his inevitable fate.

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After what seemed like hours, the door opened for the second time that night to admit a very unwelcome visitor. The prisoner did not raise his blonde head this time, already knowing what was in store.

The air around Draco grew colder as the visitor made careful measured steps towards the boy hanging in the dungeon. He felt his breath freeze on his lips and his nipples grew sensitive and erect in response to the harsh environment. And then, a biting voice whispered from inches away from his face.

"Draco Malfoy" pronounced the voice with double-edged amusement. Draco shivered involuntarily.

A long shriveled finger reached out to grasp Draco's pronounced chin. He recoiled at the touch but the finger held fast, digging a sharp nail into the side of the prisoner's face.

"Look at me, boy" the voice commanded as his finger pushed up the boy's face.

Draco opened his eyes to stare into the pitiless glowing red slits of Lord Voldemort.

"The time has come, sweet boy, for you to take responsibility for your …actions" Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh I know you were scared; I can practically smell the fear still radiating from your unblemished pores. You will learn to never be afraid again, not when I present you with a task. Do you understand?"

Lord Voldemort pressed his nail deeper into Draco's flawless skin, drawing a small line of blood. He pushed the boy's chin into a nod and then took a step back.

Draco saw the intent in the dark wizard's poor excuse for eyes and his heart stopped. He watched Voldemort raise his wand.

"_Crucio!" _


	2. The Torture

**Disclaimer**: What do J.K Rowling and I have in common? The K in our names, that's about it. Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to Her Genius. I just own the plot-bunny...yes, pet the bunny...mmm he does like it...

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews, lovely readers. But there are so many hits...and the reviews just seem so disproportionate! Make me happy guys, just take two seconds out of your day to leave a review. I even like constructive criticism. Think of it this way; this is your chance to control my writing and make it better! Think of the power (laughs maniacally). Anyway, this is still the full-length prequel to "Their Final Summer". Million thanks go out to my betas: nycegurl, Oscar, and The Other Irina.

**Warning**: This chapter is rather graphic. Eventually, but not yet, this story will be slash.

Chapter 2: The Torture

A young boy, beaten and defeated, hung in the darkness on a cold cruel morning. He did not open his eyes and he did not fight to escape his captivity. His chest moved with scarce and labored breathing.

On each of his pale cheeks, normally described as perfect by all who viewed him, were two long red scars that ran from his temples down to his chin, still open and bleeding from recently inflicted violence. The blood dripped onto the boy's bare chest and rolled down in streaks, eventually collecting in the empty space between his ribs and navel. The boy had not eaten in days and the starvation had caused his stomach to almost cave inwardly, creating the space just below the ribs that were incredibly close to breaking through the thin skin covering them.

The once muscular chest had seven slashes embedded into the skin, one for every time his captor had made him cry. Lord Voldemort was a very calculating man.

Draco Malfoy's blonde hair was no longer pure and had turned a nasty shade of brown, with tufts of it having been pulled out. His arms were black and blue, the color occasionally interrupted by other cuts and scratches, most of which were created by human nails. Draco's own fingernails had been ripped out.

On his emaciated back, there were five long gashes, stretching from underneath one arm to underneath the other where a whip had been applied. The blood had dried from those, caking on his skin and giving Draco the appearance of a dirty coal miner.

And that was just his upper body.

Scanning lower, an observer would notice something odd about the angle of Draco's legs. His right ankle, although still chained together with his left, was turned in a most unnatural way, clearly broken. At least his right thigh could still flex and he, mostly, had the use of his upper right leg. His left, on the other hand, hung limp no matter how he tried to move it. The kneecap had been shattered and the bone was broken in at least two places.

Fortunately for the young Slytherin Prince, he no longer noticed or felt what was being done to him. He was practically unconscious, and on the rare moments he did notice, it was as if he was watching from afar. Draco no longer inhabited his body. He had become a curious spectator of his own torture. Somewhere deep down, he knew that this was a normal defense mechanism to trauma. He really did prefer it this way. There was no pain. Just slow, tedious, and methodical beatings at a half-dead body hanging in a dungeon. Quite fascinating to watch, torture is.

Draco's ears perked slightly at the sound of the Death Eaters coming in again. This past week, they had taken turns dragging the life out of him, often gathering in circles with their leader taking the highly coveted center stage during the torture process. Each Death Eater brought his own personality into his particular act of torture, leaving Draco with distinct markings of each pure-blooded family representative as if they were a fingerprint.

One of Voldemort's loyal minions stepped forward from the tight circle around the hanging boy and lowered his hood. Draco watched from outside his body, recognizing Goyle's father and already knowing the kind of suffering he personally liked to inflict. It was usually of the non-magical sort, because apparently Mr. Goyle received greater pleasure from causing pain the Muggle way.

Goyle silently gestured with his gloved hand and a bucket was passed his way. Draco watched from somewhere above his own body, but did not understand what Goyle was planning to do. The Death Eater tipped Draco's head back and closed his hand over his nostrils, cutting off the boys' oxygen until he was forced to gasp for air. With his other hand, he slowly poured ice-cold water down Draco's throat, ignoring the prisoner's wild thrashes.

Draco swallowed as much of the water as he could but it continued flowing, a waterfall equipped with all the power and none of the beauty. He began to sputter and choke, and still the water continued, freezing his insides and drowning his weakened lungs. From up above, Draco watched his body suffer, an odd look of amusement gracing his features. The Goyle family was not usually known for creativity, and when Draco had his wits about him, he always gave credit where it was due, and certainly this rare spark of brilliance deserved some recognition.

Draco gasped for air again and again, receiving great gulps of water instead. He started losing consciousness again, and then the water stopped, but it was too late to appreciate the dank dungeon air. Draco watched his own head droop and the muscles in his back go limp, and sighed. True, this was not the worst they had done, and it seemed they were letting up-becoming lazy with their usual schedule of day-by-day torture. Still, it was taxing on a body so near death.

A whisper ruffled through the ranks of the Death Eaters and the circle parted to allow their fearless leader to step in.

"That is enough, Goyle" uttered Lord Voldemort, his voice laced with the faintest trace of a warning.

"Of course, My Lord" replied Goyle with a slight sneer as he stepped back into the neat circle.

"It is my turn for some enjoyment, isn't that correct Draco?" Voldemort cocked his disfigured head towards the unconscious boy and a malevolent smile slowly stretched across his lips.

"Oh Draco, not unconscious already? How disappointing! It's time to wake up, dear…wake up!" Voldemort purred and with a flick of his wand, Draco from above was forced back into his trembling body and his eyes blinked open.

"Good morning, sunshine" whispered Lord Voldemort with a deadly glint in the red glow of his slits.

Draco didn't have a chance to reply as Voldemort cast the Imperius curse to make him turn his head almost one hundred eighty degrees around. He groaned aloud as he felt his neck muscles stretch beyond human capability.

"Crucio!" roared a suddenly enraged Lord Voldemort, and so it began. Quickly, little pinpricks of pain traveled from the soles of Draco's feet to the tips of his hair. Old scars ripped open and new cuts were formed, blending in until there was no beginning or end to the agony.

Draco screamed into the night, a voice haunted with the knowledge that virtually no one would hear him. He felt as though nails were clawing at his raw skin, exposing the muscle only to shred into that as well. Blood did not drip down his body; it poured, gathering around his ankles and forming a pool on the floor underneath his feet.

Quiet snickers were heard around the room, passing like a virus from Death Eater to Death Eater. It made Draco scream louder, with a voice so high pitched that the manor dogs raised their heads in curiosity all the way from where they were chained on the outside grounds.

His whole body convulsed, shaking as if intent on decapitating itself. Still, Voldemort did not let up. Soon, his surrounding minions began to chant, with encouragement and energy, seemingly renewing Voldemort's powers when he grew tired.

The world was fading, the dark corners of the dungeon blurring with the hooded faces of the demons that tortured Draco Malfoy. Where there was a beginning and where there was an end, Draco did not know and did not particularly care. He was letting go of the shred that kept him alive, and his vision faded to black.

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Hermione Granger pushed open the heavy oak door and called out into the musky air. "Hello, anyone here?" Her words echoed through the dark hallways and far off in the distance, she could hear running footsteps.

"Hermione!" and she was quickly enveloped by a tall boy with long red hair and a mess of freckles that peeked from the sleeves of his t-shirt. More footsteps followed, and soon the Golden Trio stood embracing in the parlor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Hermione pulled back to give an appreciative look towards the boy in her arms. It had only been a few weeks since the end of term, but already Ron was looking better than he ever did. Her gaze, as it slowly passed over his body, plainly said she thought so.

Ron turned a lovely shade of scarlet as he watched one of his best friends look him over suggestively. He coughed and stepped aside, and Hermione snapped her head up to take a peek at Harry.

Hermione frowned upon seeing her other best friend. He was paler than usual and appeared to be even thinner in his slightly oversized clothing. His raven hair, usually sticking up in all sorts of directions, was lying flat, quite possibly for the first time ever. Hermione's eyes widened at the odd thought, and her mouth slackened when she saw the dark circles underneath his dull green eyes.

"Harry…." She whispered but failed to come up with anything to say. He fidgeted with his hands and attempted a faint smile, which quickly died away as she stepped up to him and held out her arms for a hug. He stiffly stepped into her arms and then quickly let go, avoiding her gaze.

"How have you been, Harry?"

"Alright, Hermione. And you?"

Hermione's frown deepened but she refrained from pointing out that she thought he was anything but alright.

"Not bad, all things considered. Ron? What about you?"

Ron started upon hearing his name. He had been busy staring at Hermione, and now looked embarrassed at not having followed the conversation.

"Er…what about me, Mione?"

Hermione sighed and let a small giggle escape her lips, while Harry allowed the tiniest of amused smiles to grace his somber features.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald" she proclaimed as she grabbed his arm and dragged him further into the house.

Harry trudged behind them slowly. He really was not in the mood to deal with Hermione's unyielding curiosity, but he knew she would never stop with the questions unless he showed some cheer. No matter how hard he tried, though, all he could muster was a mask of indifference, and even that slipped off once in a while.

"What I wouldn't give to be a Malfoy now" brooded Harry, remembering the cool Malfoy mask that was perfect at keeping everyone at bay. He needed that mask now, to hide the fact that he was having the worst summer imaginable.

Harry found it hard to get out of bed every morning. He didn't know why, considering he had stopped sleeping. Every time he had tried closing his eyes, he replayed the scene up on the Astronomy tower, the funeral, Sirius's death, Cedric's death…The list went on and on.

He constantly heard dark whispers in his head and could no longer discern which thoughts were his own and which thoughts were Voldemort's. They blended together perfectly, his own dark thoughts beginning to match the evil of the others. But Harry avoided thinking about this, as he avoided thinking about all the casualties.

It seemed he avoided a lot of things these days. He avoided sleep, for fear of being plunged into the past. He avoided food, for fear of satiating his hunger and then having to feel something else. He avoided his thoughts, for fear that they were not his own.

Harry looked up as he almost walked right into Ron and Hermione.

"Hi there, Hermione" greeted Professor Lupin with a sad smile. "How has your summer been so far?"

Hermione perked up at the sight of another familiar face. "It's been alright, Professor. My parents are on holiday in Italy for a month, and I convinced them to let me stay here over the summer. I hope that's alright… I can help out a lot…" She trailed off uncertainly.

Lupin smiled again and nodded. "I remember your talents, Hermione. I know you'll be a great asset to the Order, if you are really still interested in helping."

Hermione blushed at the compliment and nodded happily. Lupin looked past her and noticed Harry staring at the floor.

"Hi, Harry" he said softly. Harry didn't look up. Instead, he mumbled something about needing to do something in his room and rushed off without another glance at the three.

Harry heard Hermione question his actions and could almost picture Ron shrugging and Lupin shaking his head. The truth was that Harry also avoided Professor Lupin. Ever since he had replaced Dumbledore as head of The Order, Harry hadn't quite been able to look him in the eye. He knew Lupin had not done anything to deserve such cold treatment but he couldn't help it. Lupin didn't belong as the leader. Dumbledore was the true leader, and he always would be. How dare the werewolf try and take his place?

He felt his hands curl into fists as sharp anger pangs broiled in his stomach. However, the emotion quickly faded as Harry collapsed onto his shabby bed and looked up at the ceiling. The paint was chipping on the right side but that was no surprise. The house was in as much disrepair as it had been the summer before fifth year and Harry had no desire to fix it up. There were too many memories buried in the place; it would never feel pleasant no matter how many layers of paint were applied.

Harry rolled onto his side and stared off into oblivion, welcoming the haze taking over his plagued mind. The haze was a good friend; it visited faithfully every day and stopped Harry from over thinking himself to death.

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Hermione settled herself inside the last bedroom on the second floor of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. She shivered slightly as she unpacked her things. Grimmauld Place always gave her an uneasy feeling deep in the pits of her stomach.

"I love what you've done with the place, Harry" she thought dryly as her gaze swept over the decrepit carpet and the cobwebs that gathered in the corners on her wall.

Harry…After her conversation with Ron and Professor Lupin, Hermione was really becoming worried for her friend. He had, apparently, been that way since the beginning of summer, and she could not even imagine the pain he must have been feeling since the headmaster had passed on.

He was like another father to the boy, this much Hermione knew. With Harry's real father long dead, followed by Sirius…well, Hermione realized he was breaking down and Dumbledore's death was the last straw. And his reaction to Lupin's presence…that was puzzling at first but eventually Hermione figured it out.

Harry probably thought Professor Lupin was trying to replace Dumbledore.

"Poor Harry" she muttered aloud, as she waved her wand and performed a quick scourgify on the cobwebs. The man was only trying to help and she hoped Harry would realize that soon, before he lost another close friend.

And it wasn't just Harry worrying her. Ever since she stepped foot inside the ominous house, she had felt something was off but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was almost as if she felt something coming, something unpleasant…but no, she didn't believe in premonitions or 'feelings'.

"Bollocks" Hermione scoffed. It was probably just the effect of the creepy old house.


	3. The Rescue

**Disclaimer**: Another day, another hope dashed. J.K. Rowling still owns it all...except for my plot!

**A/N**: Many thanks to my readers and reviewers! You guys inspire me to continue to write! This is the full-length prequel to "Their Final Summer". Chocolate chip cookies go out to my betas: nycegurl, Oscar, and The Other Irina.

**Warning**: Slash eventually! I promise, please bear with me.

Chapter 3: The Rescue

Draco's eyes blinked open to find him in darkness once again. He felt greatly weakened from the past few weeks and could barely raise his head above shoulder level as he continued to hang in the bowels of Malfoy Manor. Lately, they had been letting up with the torture, but he still reflexively gagged from the memory of the icy water cascading down his throat without restraint.

Draco shivered at the memory while his body blazed with fever and sickness. The only cool bit offering relief was around his neck and he couldn't figure out why. He didn't recall having anything around his neck, and if there had been something, the Death Eaters would have stripped him of it long ago.

As he gathered his bearings, Draco's thoughts turned to survival. He was nearly dead but he knew he had to keep fighting, had to keep breathing just so he could escape. He didn't know exactly how he would; he just knew he had to.

The chill around his neck was soothing and he tried to relax his body so that the relief would spread. The cool feeling was familiar, although he couldn't quite place it. But suddenly, his vision began to blur until it faded out of one reality and into another.

"_Draco, now that you are entering school and will no longer be under your mother's and my strict care, I would like to present you with a special gift."_

_Eleven year old Draco raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. His father was not one to give gifts, or anything for that matter. _

_Lucius opened the intricate wooden box he held and pulled out a short silver chain. It was woven into various Celtic knots and felt cool to the touch. _

"_This special gift is a chain of great power. It has been passed down to our family by a …influential…source. When it is worn, it becomes invisible to all, but remains at a constant low temperature. You must wear it always." _

"_What is its purpose, father?"_

"_Communication." _

The flashback ended as quickly as it came. Draco gasped as he realized just what he had in his possession. It was his ticket out, his ticket home, and the Death Eaters had no idea!

He began to plot his escape immediately, knowing he needed to move fast and that he couldn't accomplish this alone. But who to contact? His friends were undoubtedly supporters of the Dark Lord; if they weren't, their families were. He needed to contact the Light…it would have to be The Order of the Phoenix. And therein lay the problem.

_They all hate me_. He needed someone who would be willing to help, someone who could forgive his past transgressions…

There is, of course, the Golden Trio. Draco didn't doubt that they were involved with the Order. Those three always HAD to be a part of something for The Good Side; if they didn't have their fingers in everything, Draco was sure the world would end.

But reaching Harry Potter was out of the question. There was no way he'd ever want to save him. Even heroes have their limits. And Weasley…well, he would probably spontaneously combust from either anger that Draco was still alive or smugness at him for being a prisoner.

Granger, however…She probably wouldn't be thrilled at the prospect, considering all that 'mudblood' business and whatnot…but she WAS more level-headed than the other two…she might not hex him to death…The idea was worth considering. Except Draco didn't have time to consider. The Death Eaters would eventually be back.

Setting his mouth in a grim line, Draco made his decision.

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Hermione gasped for breath as she sat up in bed, sweating and crying. She leaned over the side and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor, before sitting back and sighing as she labored to get her breathing under control. All that blood, the sharp pains, skin ripping…it was too much to bear.

Silent tears ran down her face as she recalled her nightmare. Unforgivable curses…one after the other…whips…drowning in freezing water…hanging until numb…it was a boy…blond hair…so thin…And the pleading voice…that whisper crying out "_Help me, Hermione…please…please"_. The images played like a movie reel through her head, over and over until she couldn't take it anymore; she grabbed her head and groaned aloud.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized that this was no normal dream. It was just a hunch but it was enough to send her careening down the stairs to the Black Family Library.

Much to her surprise, the library was not dark and dingy like the rest of the house. It was well lit by candles floating near the tables and bookshelves, and there was not a cobweb in sight. Some of the books looked rather hazardous, but otherwise the shelves were quite approachable.

Following the labels, Hermione found the section on dreams and picked out a rather large silver tome and slammed it on a nearby table. Flipping through it, her finger landed on the word "Communication".

**"Dream communication is rare in the modern wizarding world. It usually requires a mode of communication, often a piece of jewelry of sorts, or it can occur through a magical connection created by Dark magic (see chapter 21: The Potter Scar)…"**

**"The differences between dreams and communication dreams are subtle, but recognizable to the trained eye. Communication dreams tend to be much more vivid, and they elicit strong physiological responses in those on the receiving end. Depending on the content of the dream, these responses could range from euphoric heart racing and high blood pressure to vomiting, sweating, and tears. The tell-tale sign of these dreams, however, is a direct message sent in words, in addition to the vivid images."**

At that point, Hermione stopped reading and ripped out the page from the book in a panic. Gripping it in her small fist, she ran at full speed towards Professor Lupin's office, where he often slept instead of bothering to return to his bedroom. She hammered on his door until she heard his quiet snoring cease.

Professor Lupin opened the door and peered at the panicked girl groggily.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Professor, I think something is terribly wrong."

He ushered her into the room and onto the armchair in front of his desk. Offering her a cup of tea, he leaned on the desk in front of her and folded his arms across his chest.

"What happened?"

"I had a terrible dream. But I don't think it was just any dream."

Lupin raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"It was very vivid, and…oh professor, I think Draco Malfoy is in terrible danger!" she cried, unable to remain composed any longer.

"What did you see in the dream?"

"There was a blond boy and he was hanging somewhere, I think it was Malfoy Manor because Lucius Malfoy made an appearance. The boy was…badly beaten, there was blood on his chest and the floor…he was hanging from the ceiling, I think, but he was conscious, just barely. They tried to drown him at one point…He was begging me to help him; he spoke directly to me!"

"And you are sure this is the youngest Malfoy?"

"Positive, the voice and images of the hair are unmistakable. And look, professor, I even went to research and all the signs point to it being a communication dream" she exclaimed as she pointed out the crumpled paper in her fist.

He took the paper and sat behind his desk with a thoughtful expression on his lined face.

"This could be a trap…but what if it's not? This is a very delicate situation…" he muttered to no one in particular.

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "With all due respect, Professor, even if it is a trap, I'm willing to take the chance…if you had felt the emotions from the dream, you would understand…"

Lupin sighed, looking more tired than he ever did during full moons. "Hermione, if this is real, I'm afraid we have no aurors to spare for the rescue. All of them are out on their posts, tailing prominent Death Eaters. Who would we send?"

"Well Ron is out of the question, and Harry wouldn't be too keen, I think, but I am willing…"she trailed off.

"I'm rather reluctant to send you into a nest of Death Eaters on your own," replied Lupin skeptically.

"I reckon this would have to be a small mission anyway, because Malfoy probably isn't high on their priority level, considering they seemed to be punishing him for something he didn't do correctly," reasoned Hermione. "It would be safer; just send one person in when the coast is clear to quickly grab him and go. No one would be the wiser!"

"It won't be that easy. However, I am confident in your abilities as a witch and if you're sure…"

Hermione shaped her soft features into a determined expression.

"I can do this."

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As a soft crack echoed through the hills, Hermione landed outside the magical barrier of Malfoy Manor and immediately crouched down behind a nearby bush. In the distance, she could see the imposing aristocratic home, complete with two turrets and a shiny new black paint job. It resembled a modern Victorian and had a foreboding aura oozing out of the cracks in the siding. The sky was still rather dark as it was very early in the morning; it seemed the best time for rescuing a prisoner.

Hermione was quite prepared for the task at hand. She wrapped Harry's invisibility cloak--- nicked surreptitiously from his trunk during his nighttime prowling--- snuggly around herself and cast a Disillusionment charm so as not to tip off any magical alarms as she stepped foot onto the grounds. She had mapped them out beforehand-with Professor Lupin's help- and she stole towards the secret back entrance that required some complicated wandwork in order to become visible to passerby.

Once inside, Hermione walked stealthily towards the dungeon steps, keeping her ears perked for any out of place sounds. Her heels clicked a bit too loudly for her taste on the stone staircase; she scoffed as she realized it was just typical of the Malfoys to have both a dungeon (of doom, no doubt) and a set of ominous stone steps leading down to it.

When she reached the bottom, she was surrounded by darkness so thick that it was almost palpable. The cold seeped into her pores and she shivered with dreadful anticipation.

"Lumos", she whispered and her wand lit to reveal a sight truly unfit for innocent eyes. The faint light revealed a vast dull dungeon space. The only color was the drops of red leading towards the center of the room…red that, to Hermione, looked suspiciously like blood. She let her eyes trail slowly upwards, following the crimson splotches that unceremoniously decorated the stone dungeon floor.

Hermione drew in a breath as she spotted the body hanging from the hook. It looked so disfigured that she was afraid to get any closer. Her throat filled with bile as the metallic smell of blood overwhelmed her and she had to turn away to retch quietly onto the floor. Wiping her mouth, she looked back up and found she couldn't move. She just gazed at the broken boy hanging by his wrists and marveled at how different he was from the snobby wealthy boy she had known in school. An image from the nightmare flashed by her mind and only then did she snap out of her reverie and into motion.

She rushed forward and reached up to check Malfoy's pulse. She was relieved to feel a faint thump and proceeded to destroy the chains tied around his wrists. Hermione caught Draco as he fell but she barely felt the weight of the starved prisoner. Time was running out and she knew she had to hurry; it was only a matter of time before someone would come to check on him. She cleaned up the body as best she could considering the hasty circumstances and levitated him to float behind her. Using an engorgement charm to enlarge the invisibility cloak, she covered them both and turned towards the door when she heard approaching footsteps.

Hermione's heart raced as she realized just how close the footsteps were, but, thankfully, they sounded as though they were coming from a different direction and her exit was still clear. She practically ran up the staircase to the ground floor, barely remembering to muffle the sounds of her heels with a spell.

Once outside, Hermione threw all caution to the wind and ran full speed beyond the well-groomed grounds towards the apparition point. With another crack, she disapparated from the accursed manor, all the while holding on to the unconscious Draco Malfoy with all her might.

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Hermione Granger trudged up the path towards Grimmauld Place feeling utterly drained of all energy and magic. It took all she had just to keep the body behind her floating. The sun was just rising above the horizon, casting an orange glow over the shabby house. She slipped off the invisibility cloak and folded it onto her arm as she climbed the steps.

"Something you care to share, Hermione?"

Hermione's heart stopped as she looked up into the very green eyes of one Harry Potter, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised.


	4. Draco's Arrival

**Disclaimer**: All characters and places belong to J.K.Rowling. I am but a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things.

**A/N**: Thanks for reading and and reviewing, everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long; it's been in the beta-shop for a while. This is the prequel to "Their Final Summer", and takes place Post-HBP. Mucho love to my betas nycegurl, Oscar, and The Other Irina.

**Chapter 4: Draco's Arrival**

"_Something you care to share, Hermione?" _

_Hermione's heart stopped as she looked up into the very green eyes of one Harry Potter, leaning against the doorframe with arms folded across his chest and a raised eyebrow. _

She shifted her weight in a failed attempt to cover the body hovering behind her and gazed sheepishly at Harry as he continued to stare.

"Well…uh…well…um…you see, Harry…." Hermione cleared her throat and attempted to start over. "I had a dream…"

Harry wasn't listening as he stepped forward and looked around her small body. "Is that…Malfoy?" he exclaimed, his mouth dropping open and his arms slackening to his sides in shock.

Hermione tried again, brushing a frizzy strand of hair out of her face and taking a deep breath. "I had a dream that he was in trouble and told Lupin. He sent me to rescue him."

Harry scoffed. "Who cares if he was in trouble, Mione? It's MALFOY we're talking about here. He got Dumbledore killed! The git probably deserved everything he got."

Hermione chanced a step forward and reached out as if to touch Harry's arm. "Come on, Harry, you know you don't really mean that…He was being tortured by Death Eaters" she whispered as she took a surreptitious look around to make sure there were no prying ears.

Harry sat down on the porch bench and beckoned her towards him. She left Draco in mid-air and sat next to the boy-who-didn't-understand.

"Explain".

Hermione launched into a long-winded explanation as to why exactly she was up at the crack of dawn with Draco Malfoy, of all people, in her possession. Harry's eyes widened with every word out of her mouth. It wasn't that he felt sorry for the prisoner; it was just too much overwhelming information to swallow at once.

"So they were keeping him prisoner for failing to kill Dumbledore?"

"Not just prisoner, Harry. They were torturing him, by magical and muggle means. If you had seen the dream…" she trailed off and shuddered. Harry looked calculatingly from Hermione to Draco and back again. His face did not betray any emotion; he merely nodded, stood, and beckoned for Hermione to follow.

They walked into the house and started up the stairs when Ron came out of the kitchen and subsequently dropped the apple he was eating at the sight of what was floating in the wake of his two friends.

"Is that who I think it is?" he yelled.

"Now Ronald…" Hermione began but Harry cut her off.

"Go on upstairs and put him in the bedroom next to yours. I'll take care of this."

Hermione turned reluctantly and continued her exhausted climb as Harry pulled Ron aside in order to explain things. Before she reached the landing, she chanced another look downstairs to catch Ron's face just as it began to turn a violent shade of purple. She observed with exasperated amusement that the color matched remarkably with Ron's new purple Weasley sweater; it seemed that Mrs. Weasley finally realized her son's hatred for 'maroon' and decided a color he hated more would be best.

When Hermione disappeared behind the bend, Harry turned to his violet friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Now I know you'll probably hate this, and I definitely don't like it, but yes…that was Malfoy", he said quietly, trying to gauge Ron's reaction.

The redhead seemed utterly lost for words. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, reminding Harry of the pet goldfish Dudley once had (before he got hungry and made it into his Monday morning snack).

"What in bloody HELL is he doing here, Harry?"

"Apparently he was in trouble."

"Good! Again, why is he here?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "I don't really know, Ron. Hermione and Lupin think he was being tortured, or some rubbish like that. They felt the need to save him and apparently endanger all our lives because Voldemort will undoubtedly learn of the Order's location and we'll all be doomed…" he trailed off, muttering about the professor's incompetence and the need for Dumbledore.

Ron turned towards the wall and raised a fist in anger, about to punch it, wishing dearly that the wall was Malfoy. Harry grabbed his arm and held it back at the last second.

"Please, mate, at least try not to break anything."

"Harry, I CAN'T LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE AS FERRET-FACE!!! IF HE SAYS ONE WORD ABOUT HERMIONE OR MY FAMILY, HE'LL BE EATING SOMETHING WORSE THAN SLUGS, MARK MY WORDS!"

"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS TO DEAL WITH HIS RUBBISH, RON. GET OVER IT", yelled Harry, slamming out the front door and leaving Ron staring after him with a confused look on his face and a dirty apple in his hand.

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Hermione winced as she heard the door slam. She was starting to get really tired of Ron's immature antics, and it seemed Harry wasn't much better. She turned her attention, instead, to the unconscious body she had laid on the bed in the room next to hers. Hermione realized he would need medical attention immediately and she called for Lupin to assist her.

Lupin let out a low whistle as he surveyed Draco Malfoy's broken body.

"He certainly doesn't look like the cocky boy in third year, does he?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "He was absolutely horrible in school, and he probably still is…but I can't help feeling sorry for him. What should we do? We can't let him die!"

She had started out speaking calmly, but by now her voice was so shrill that Lupin sent a sidelong glance in her direction.

"Well, we can't risk calling an outside medi-witch. We'll have to check him over ourselves. It can't be too difficult, can it?"

Without answering, Hermione summoned her trunk and extracted several books on healing and a Wizard-aid kit. At Lupin's questioning look, she smiled sheepishly and said "My parents are muggle doctors; they like that I'm always prepared."

She opened "Serious Internal Injuries" with a flourish and pulled out her wand. "Seems like he has quite a few broken bones; best to take care of those first…"

Lupin pulled the book from her hands and read aloud as she popped open the kit. Although it seemed small from the outside, it opened up to fit an entire medical potions set, a full–sized pewter cauldron, and numerous tubes and bottles containing all sorts of ready-made potions and salves. Lupin first cast a spell to x-ray the body; Hermione gasped quite loudly as she realized the extent of the damage.

"Bones are the least of our problems!" she cried, and she began brewing a Blood Replenishing potion at a most unnatural speed.

Meanwhile, Lupin pointed his wand at different parts of Malfoy's body and muttered healing spells under his breath. Open wounds began closing up and the blood flow on his back stemmed to a trickle. Gold jets of light flew from his wand as he mended the broken bones in Malfoy's leg and repaired the torn muscle.

By the time Hermione finished the potion, Malfoy looked (despite his unkempt appearance) relatively human again. Lupin forced open the unconscious boy's mouth as Hermione poured a cup full of the thick potion down Malfoy's throat, taking care to see that no drop was wasted. She bottled the rest and cast a spell that would make the bottle emit a loud ringing noise when it was time for Draco's second dosage. With that, she finally collapsed on the armchair by his bedside and let out a relieved "whew!"

"Well, let's hope there wasn't anything we missed," sighed Lupin. "He might be unconscious for a while; I imagine there was plenty of psychological damage induced that we wouldn't be able to do anything about. Can you clean him up a bit please? I need to contact other Order members about what has been going on".

Hermione nodded and waved him off. She proceeded to clean up the body, varying between "scourgify" spells and muggle sponge-bathing. As she wiped the dirt and sweat off his forehead, she felt tender warmth traveling its way through her stomach: he just looked so peaceful and yet heartbreaking at the same time. His ribs were easily visible through the pale skin; he was clearly starved and she wondered how he had survived this long.

Meanwhile, Ron was running upstairs to interrogate Hermione on precisely what the hell she was doing bringing the ferret-faced Death Eater into Order of the Phoenix headquarters. He noticed the ajar door and was about to call out when he saw Hermione sponge-bathing Malfoy's face.

He crept closer and watched as she ran the wet washcloth through his white-blond hair, no longer dirty, and down the side of his face, rounding around the neck and slowly moving the cloth towards his bare chest. She turned her face for a moment and Ron saw the look in her big brown eyes; she was sharing a tender moment with the unconscious Draco Malfoy. Ron's eyes narrowed and his ears grew hot; he swore quite loudly and stalked away.

Hermione jumped at the sound and realized what she had been doing, dropping the washcloth on the floor with a soft gasp.

"_It must be the exhaustion, that's all…yea…"_ thought Hermione and she glanced out the grimy window panes. Darkness had fallen upon London and the street lamps were emitting a soft orange glow along the sidewalk. She looked back at Malfoy and decided he was clean enough; she packed her trunk and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her carefully so as not to wake anyone nearby.

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Harry heard the door snap closed quietly and waited a few minutes, listening hard for Hermione's footsteps to enter her bedroom. When they faded away, he slipped out of his hiding place in the study and padded his way across the hall.

He pushed open the door and closed it softly behind him. Taking a deep breath, he spun around and gazed at the body lying serenely between the wide open hangings of the four poster bed.

Harry's body started to move; his feet were stepping forward almost of their own accord. He didn't understand why they were walking towards the bed, for he had not given them permission to commit such blasphemy. He stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at the sleeping face of his six-year long enemy.

Malfoy looked a lot better than he had when Harry first had a glimpse of him this morning. His hair was once again clean and shiny; the fringe falling into his eyes in soft waves and the back fanning out on the pillow. He lay on his back with a calm expression on his face, his lips relaxed in their natural state, instead of pulled back into his characteristic sneer. Harry couldn't see his eyes: would they still be a cold silver color, glinting maliciously like a knife slashing through a patch of sunlight, or would they have warmed to a more molten gray?

His eyes strayed down the pale body to the blanket covering the chest and torso. Malfoy's ribs were even visible through the duvet. Harry lifted part of the cover and let out the breath he had been holding the whole time, his eyes growing wider at the sight of the wasted body. He dropped the cover and stepped around to the side of the bed where Malfoy's arm was hanging slightly off the mattress.

Harry found himself wondering about what had happened to this boy. How much did he go through? But then, Harry felt the flames of hot anger lick his insides. Whatever he went through, it wasn't enough. He was here, wasn't he? He was getting healed. But not Dumbledore…Dumbledore was still dead.

He felt a strong emotion rising up past his stomach, something he hadn't felt for so long. It was moving quickly, a lump had formed in his throat, and the next thing Harry knew, he was on his knees by Malfoy's bed, crying and screaming his throat hoarse, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He gasped out a silencing charm on the room and poured out his anguish by his enemy's side, punching the mattress and cursing Draco for being alive, cursing him for being weak and following his father's footsteps, cursing him for his plan to destroy Dumbledore.

He didn't care that Malfoy had chickened out in the end. It was his fault, all his fault, and Harry was alone again. He couldn't understand why they all left him, and that was why he cried: Because he didn't know what was wrong with him. What had he done? Why didn't anyone stick around?

Harry cried until his tears ran dry and he was left crumpled on the floor, his chest heaving with hatred, grief, and a lack of oxygen. Eventually, his breathing evened out and Harry settled himself into the wicker armchair where Hermione had rested a few hours ago. He didn't close his eyes nor did he doze off; he just sat and trained his eyes on Draco Malfoy's face, finding a peace in the pale skin, blond hair, and chapped lips that he had never found before.

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Please review! I'd love to know what you think. )


	5. The Awakening

**Disclaimer**: All characters and places belong to J.K.Rowling. I am but a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things.

**A/N**: This is the longest chapter yet! I'm so excited. Sorry it took so long; I had finals to worry about and all. Incidentally, this chapter is being posted one beta short so...thanks to my betas nycegurl and Oscar! Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Prelude to a Kiss

It had been three days since Hermione had rescued Draco from the clutches of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He was still unconscious, lying on his bed, although Lupin insisted his vital signs were growing stronger each day. During the day, Malfoy's room was haunted by Hermione and Professor Lupin, fussing to make sure everything was okay. But he was not alone at night, either.

Every night, Harry sat in that same armchair and watched Draco. He didn't sleep anyway, and he felt he might as well do something productive with his miserable nighttime hours. There was something calming about spending his nights in that room, in the presence of his enemy. Malfoy couldn't smirk or sneer, he couldn't provoke him, and Harry found that he could enjoy spending time with him- as long as the boy was unconscious, of course.

On his second night in the armchair, Harry felt a cold draft from the open window and rushed over to close it. When he returned to his seat, he noticed Draco's duvet hadn't been pulled over him completely, and the pale flesh of his adversary was covered in goose bumps. Reaching over, he pulled the cover up to Draco's chin and his hand accidentally brushed against his arm. Holding his breath, Harry froze. Inside, he felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably and he didn't know what to do.

The skin on Draco's arm felt soft and smooth, except for one fading scar trailing from the inside of his elbow to his wrist which Hermione had no doubt been healing. Intrigued, Harry traced one finger along the scar and reached Malfoy's hand, and he felt a sudden urge to take it. He grabbed the hand gently and examined each finger, observing the fingernails that were in the process of growing back and the fine lines gracing the smooth palm. He dropped the hand seconds later, but the experience still unnerved him greatly.

It didn't stop him from coming back the next night, however. This time, Harry held the hand all night, partially because he had a sudden fear that Malfoy would disappear and partially because it just felt _good._

The morning after the third night dawned shockingly bright, pale golden light spreading over the room and disturbing Draco's unconscious sleep. He stirred and blinked, before immediately shutting his eyes and attempting to sink deeper into the blankets. It was far too warm and toasty to justify waking up, and there was this wonderful soft pressure on his right hand…

'That's not right' thought Draco and he finally forced himself awake and glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings with pale eyes. He felt panic rising in his chest as he realized he had no idea where he was or how he got there, but then the memories began to flood back. But what was that sweet heat in his hand?

Draco gingerly turned his stiff neck and jumped about a mile into the air.

"Potter!"

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Harry jerked awake from his hazy state of not-quite-sleep. He looked wildly around for the source of his disturbance and his gaze fell upon the terrified silver eyes belonging to Malfoy, who had removed his hand and was currently cowering in the farthest corner of the bed, away from Harry.

"Well, it's about time," smirked Harry, enjoying the fear flickering in his enemy's eyes.

Malfoy let out a small whimper, and then almost as if he was appalled by his own reaction, he quickly rearranged his features to display a scowl.

"What…are you doing here?" asked Malfoy. "And where am I?"

"You don't remember?" asked Harry. "Hermione brought you here. She had some dream…and well, here you are."

"Where exactly is…here?"

"London. Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. That's about all I can tell you. I'm not secret-keeper," shrugged Harry.

"But if Granger….why are _you_ here?" An attitude was slowly creeping into his voice.

Harry detected the tone and wiped the smirk off his face.

"I'll go get her, then" he replied with a clipped and cold voice.

He rose and turned to leave before he heard a shuffling behind him and a muffled "ow".

"N..no, please…don't go…yet" whispered Malfoy, wincing as he tried to lift himself off the bed.

"You want Hermione, don't you?" said Harry bitterly. "And don't try to get up; the Death Eaters did a number on you, they did."

"Sit down", Malfoy continued in a hoarse whisper. "I was just afraid…I didn't call you…."

"Afraid I was going to kill you?" asked Harry, amusement lighting up his features.

"It's not an unreasonable fear," retorted Malfoy.

"You'd deserve it, you know" said Harry quietly. His head was bent low, as if he was staring at his feet, but really he was gazing upwards through his lashes at Malfoy's face.

Malfoy gave him a strange look. "Why do you say that?" he asked curiously.

Harry was quiet for a moment. He realized that Malfoy had no idea he had been on the Tower, that he had witnessed it all…

"I was there that night."

A look of incomprehension crossed over Malfoy's face. "Which night?" he asked with a slight waver in his voice.

"When Dumbledore died. I was…" he paused. "I was on the Astronomy Tower. I saw what happened."

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise and maybe, thought Harry, even a little fear.

"You were there?" he whispered

Harry nodded, his head still bent.

"But…but how?" spluttered Malfoy, eyeing Harry suspiciously for any signs of violent movement.

"Invisibility cloak." Harry's voice was calm and detached, his face expressionless.

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. He looked as if he couldn't decide whether it would be best to attempt explanation or to escape.

"I saw you lower your wand, though," continued Harry. "Were you really going to go through with it?"

Malfoy flushed and looked down. "I couldn't…" he whispered. "I was weak…I _am_ weak."

Harry looked up sharply. "Funny, you'd think not killing someone would make you _strong_," he replied with a dangerous edge to his tone. "But then, of course you regret not doing it."

Harry turned on his heel and walked to the door. He gripped the door knob and twisted it, a loud and abrupt squeak filling the morning air and making him wince.

"No, Potter. You're wrong," said Malfoy clearly, with a determined air.

Harry froze dead in his tracks, his hand on the knob and his knees slightly shaking from suppressed anger.

'Excuse me?"

"I said 'you're wrong'. It's not failing to kill him that I regret," said Malfoy, his voice growing stronger with each syllable. "I regret setting it up at all".

Harry remained by the door but his hand dropped to his side. He was breathing hard, willing the rage coursing through his veins to dissipate. He leaned his forehead against the door and took deep breaths, feeling as if his heart would explode with any further strain. There was a prickling behind his eyes, a familiar feeling, and a feeling he prayed would stop. It didn't, and to his horror, Harry found hot tears sliding down his face.

He balled his fists and brought them to the door, but he didn't pound. He just stood there quietly, a secretly broken man, anguish welling up and rising through his stomach, through the emptiness he never could quite fill, until he felt eyes on the back of his head. He didn't turn around, and was glad he didn't when another croaking whisper filled the room.

"I'm sorry."

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"Do you feel up for breakfast?"

Draco looked up from his uncomfortable sitting position on the bed, gingerly shifting his weight.

"Yeah…I think so," he replied uncertainly. "Who else is here?"

"Hermione, Ron, Lupin…" replied Harry. "Other members of the Order come and go."

Draco nodded and cautiously tested his weight on his feet. Harry caught him under the arms as his legs gave out.

"What…what are you doing, Potter?!" spluttered Draco, who was alarmed and confused by the sudden gesture of kindness from his former enemy.

Harry raised one neat eyebrow and smirked slightly. "It doesn't really seem like you'll make it downstairs on your own...unless, of course, you'd like to try?"

He let go of Draco's arms and Draco swayed dangerously. He promptly toppled over, and found himself once again in Harry's arms.

Harry didn't say anything and waited for Draco to regain his balance. The blonde grumbled under his breath, complaining about 'do-gooder Gryffindors' and 'bloody boys who lived' and finally righted himself.

They took a few steps out of the bedroom, with Draco holding onto Potter's arm with a vice-like grip. He drew breath in with quick huffs and paled every few seconds as a sharp pain ripped through his stomach. To Draco's surprise and chagrin, Potter held him up every step of the way, making sure Draco had his proper footing and never commenting on the sudden enemy dependency.

But, Draco realized, something in the atmosphere between them had shifted. He could tell the dynamic was different, that somehow…they were no longer rivals. They certainly could not be considered mates but…they definitely weren't opponents. He was not quite sure when this pivotal moment occurred, but it was there and it lifted a load off his shoulders that he never even knew he carried.

They were almost at the bottom of the stairs and they could see into the kitchen, which was miraculously free of dust and grime. There was a black kettle steaming on the stove, and Draco could see a plate of muffins gracing the center of the round table, towards which a familiarly freckled hand was reaching from behind a tattered copy of "Quidditch of the Ages". Draco watched as a particularly handsome chaser flew by with the quaffle on the cover just as one of the muffins on the table conspicuously disappeared behind the book.

"Well, look who's finally awake," said Harry with a crooked smile.

Ron peered over the top of "Quidditch", and Draco watched as his eyes widened and narrowed merely seconds later. He brushed his red fringe to the side and left muffin crumbs on his forehead, causing Draco to fight a deep inner struggle on whether to keep his big mouth shut or not. He opted to look away from the temptation, and his eyes fell on a head of bushy brown hair.

Hermione turned around and noticed Draco. She cried out in surprise and dropped her mug of tea, which cracked into a few pieces and seeped onto the stone floor. Flushing, she drew her wand and whispered "Reparo" until the cup was good as new, although the tea was not as fortunate.

"Dra—er…Malfoy, how…how are you feeling?"

Draco looked straight into her chocolate-colored eyes, back straight and head held high, attempting to salvage some dignity even as Harry held him up by one arm. He nodded at her and gave a small smile.

"Alright, all things considering" he replied in a quiet voice. "I guess…I owe you a thanks and… an apology, Grang---Hermione."

Hermione flushed and shook her head but he shushed her before she could get a word out.

"I need to get this out," he said as he took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Ron stiffen and lower the book while eyeing Hermione suspiciously. Harry made sure the blonde was steady before he settled himself on a stool to listen to what Draco had to say, curiosity getting the better of him.

"This is no excuse… but my father," he paused and Harry saw a shadow pass over his stormy eyes. "My father raised me in a very…rigid manner. I was to follow his words and ways, no questions asked. From the very beginning, I suppose, he was training me to be his puppet…" He stopped again and licked his lips, feeling as though they were far too dry for comfort.

"I remember him being quite a good puppetmaster. When I was told to do something, I was expected to do it… or else…well, it really doesn't matter anymore. The point is, when I was told to do something or believe in something else, I did it, sometimes out of fear and sometimes, now I can see, out of brainwashing."

He could see Hermione's eyes widening with fascination and her unkempt eyebrows furrowing. Before she could interrupt, he hastily continued.

"My mother did not try to help me. She just stood by silently, watching…always silently. That's my strongest memory of her. Her silence," Draco shook his head as if to clear the clutter in his brain.

"So I entered Hogwarts, filled with Lucius' ideas and prejudices, and no one but thugs to stick up for me. I felt I had to act bigger and better than everyone around me, for fear that they'd notice I was really the smallest of them all, on the inside anyway," he said. "That's when you lot became my first victims."

"Over the years, it became easier and easier to insult without that twinge of the conscience. Every summer was spent in Lucius-indoctrination, and well…you really know the rest."

"But by the end of 5th year, it began getting clearer for me. Thanks to Potter here, Lucius was in prison, and suddenly I found I was capable of thinking for myself. I began reflecting on my past, and even though it took me over a year to reach this conclusion, I realized I did not want to be my father's carbon copy".

"Unfortunately, it seemed too late to reconcile with those I had already alienated. And at that point, Father had insured that The Dark Lord got a hold of me to do his bidding. And here I am, the result of sixteen years of mistakes".

"I understand that I should have had the courage to think for myself and stand up to my father, but nothing excuses how I treated you, Hermione, and Potter, and even Weasley," he said as he looked around at the aforementioned boy, who kept his eyes narrowed and stared Draco down.

Draco turned back to Hermione, closed his eyes, and continued speaking. "And now, even though I put you through all that crap for years, you still answered my call for help, and even came to save me from a dangerous situation. I pretty much owe you my life, and I can only hope that you can forgive me for the past, and allow me to switch sides and stay here."

He took a deep breath and blew it out, opening his eyes to see the reactions of his listeners. He found Professor Lupin (looking far more ragged than Draco ever remembered him in third year) standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand and a peculiarly amused expression on his face. Lupin walked into the room and took a seat next to Ron, who was looking mutinous as he broke his fifth muffin into tiny pieces upon the table.

Potter, Draco noticed suspiciously, was staring at his feet, avoiding the obvious gaze Lupin was shooting him. Draco wondered what was going on, but then turned to Hermione, who for the first time in her life looked quite speechless and slightly red in the face.

She struggled for a few moments before giving up and sinking into a kitchen chair. She looked Draco in the eyes and nodded, and he took that as the moment of forgiveness, and he decided not to question it for fear of changing her mind.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, gaining Harry's and Lupin's attention. "How did you manage to contact me?" she said, addressing Draco. At this point, Ron stood up abruptly, upsetting his stool until it tipped over onto the floor with a loud crash as he stalked from the room. Hermione looked shocked for a moment, but then turned her attention back to Draco expectantly.

"I have a Communication Chain," he said as he pulled off the necklace that no one else could see until it sat glowing with a white light in his hand, quite visible once it wasn't worn.

Hermione gasped and reached out. "May I…?"

Draco nodded and handed the cool chain to her. She examined it quietly, turning it over in her small hands and running her fingers over the delicate knots.

Professor Lupin whistled lowly as he looked over her shoulder. "That's a pretty rare magical object. Where did you get it?"

"Lucius gave it to me when I was eleven, right before my first year at Hogwarts," replied Draco. "I only remembered I had it after I regained consciousness."

He looked over Hermione's head and locked eyes with Harry. The boy-who-lived looked like he was about to ask the next logical question (undoubtedly 'what did they do to you') but Draco shook his head a fraction of an inch and mouthed 'later'. Harry took the hint and shoved a bit of muffin into his mouth instead.

Professor Lupin reached over and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, who winced at the pain from his numerous scars. Lupin quickly dropped his hand and apologized.

"Sorry about that. I suppose you can stay here while you heal. I don't know how trustworthy you are as of yet- although you seemed sincere in your apology- so I won't allow you to help with the Order for now. I assume someone will fill you in on what the Order is and does?"

Draco nodded.

"That's good. Are you still in pain anywhere?"

"A bit," replied Draco with a grimace. "Am I to be on any medication?"

"I brewed a Blood Replenishing potion for you; it'll make you stronger so be sure to take it," replied Hermione. "That's about it, unless you need something for the pain."

Draco nodded again and grasped Hermione's forearm. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled. "Thank you," he intoned in a lower voice.

She blushed at the touch and smiled back, beaming.

"Anytime…Draco".

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The grandfather clock struck midnight, chiming in time with the crickets and casting a peaceful aura around the darkened house. Harry padded down the hallway in his socks and pajama bottoms, sleep a distant memory in his mind. His hair was matted from rolling around in his bed restlessly, debating whether to attend his favorite evening haunt or not. Eventually, he gave in to the temptation and sneaked out into the night.

He opened the door to Draco's bedroom as quietly as he could and slipped in. The curtains were slightly open, enough so that a sliver of moonlight passed through the room and landed on the sleeping occupant.

Harry sat down in his chair-- for he had started thinking of it as such, considering he sat in it the most. He gazed down at Draco's sleeping form, noting how the eyebrows were knitted together and his nose was scrunched up with tension. Draco's hands were tightly fisted, held at his sides as he slumbered rigidly in the four-poster.

Harry sighed and leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs and allowing his eyelids to droop shut. Even with the tensed up Draco Malfoy, it felt peaceful in the room. He began to replay the day in his head and was drifting off when….

Draco moaned. Harry's head snapped up in alarm and he searched wildly for the source of the sound. The blonde moaned again, this time louder and more anguished. Harry was confused and slightly panicked; he hoped Draco would stop making those odd noises soon.

Draco opened his mouth and screamed, releasing a high-pitched inhuman sound that pierced Harry's heart and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He jumped up and approached the bed but didn't dare touch the sleeping boy.

The scream grew louder, and soon Draco's fists were up in defensive position; he began to babble incoherent words.

"Noooo, please…please….STOP!" bellowed Draco, and tears started running down his face even though his eyes were scrunched tightly shut.

"I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE…..AHHHHHHH!" he cried as he began to thrash violently on the bed, rolling this way and that, his chest convulsing as his fists punched the air in vain. His legs were entangled in the blankets but he continued to flail about, kicking Harry in the shin unknowingly.

"Oof," muttered Harry, rubbing his leg. Feeling rather afraid and not knowing what to do, Harry did the first thing that came to mind: he threw himself down on Draco's body and held the shaking boy down, trying to calm him.

Draco continued to punch and kick, crying out and begging for mercy from his inner demons. Harry held his arms fast to the bed, and tried to whisper to him.

"Malfoy," he said. Draco thrashed some more, crying out still more loudly.

"Mal—Draco!" said Harry louder.

"Draco, it's just a dream," he tried. Draco loosened up a bit, not kicking anymore but still scrabbling at the air, albeit more feebly. The tears were now pouring down his face in a torrent.

"Shhh," whispered Harry. "It's just a dream; you're alright, you're safe."

Harry gathered the waking boy in his arms and held him as he leaned against the backboard of the bed, rocking him back and forth.

"It's alright now…you're okay…I've got you" whispered Harry. "Shhh".

Draco opened his puffy eyes and glanced up at who was holding him. Harry smiled down at him and pulled him closer; Draco clung to his chest and held on for dear life. He cried again, taking deep ragged breaths and hiccoughing every few seconds. Harry kept rocking him, gently caressing Draco's blonde hair and shoulders until he calmed down.

They sat there for what seemed like hours, holding on in complete silence. Neither wanted to break it because for the first time, both were feeling absolutely safe. Harry was bursting to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all day but he was afraid to end the peace. Draco was the first to speak.

"I was tied up, hanging from the ceiling by a hook…in the dungeon of my own house. Father was there…" Draco paused to shudder at the memory. "He came to tell me I had failed him…."

And Harry listened quietly, eyes growing wide with every passing word out of Draco's mouth. He held the shivering boy in his arms, never loosening his grip and Draco was very appreciative of this.

"They tried to drown me. It was Goyle's dad, I think. They whipped me, scratched me, and ripped out my nails…" his voice wavered. "Wormtail brought me food once in a while… I didn't eat it, I couldn't…Then…." He stopped.

Draco looked up into Harry's jade eyes and saw a sheen of unshed tears glinting in the moonlight that strayed on both boys. Draco's blonde head was glowing like a sapphire in the sun; Harry gazed at him as if he had never seen anything quite like him. Harry's own dark head was illuminated brightly, reminding Draco of those Muggle tales he had heard of, about angels and beings and all. Harry nodded encouragingly.

"Then…Vol—Voldemort…he performed 'crucio' on me…" Draco's voice had dropped to a whisper. "His voice was like…ice…dripping through my veins…and I had no more blood left…and no heat…he didn't need dementors to make me remember the worst memories of my life…I screamed for so long…" A tear trailed down the side of his pale face.

Harry reached over and caught the drop on his finger, tracing it along Draco's jaw line until he reached the slightly pouted mouth, red from being bitten during the nightmare. He lifted Draco's delicate chin and gazed deeply into his silver eyes, his own thoughts whirling madly inside his head until he caught one and held on tight.

"You're safe now…You're safe here," he said softly. "With me."

Draco nodded, and Harry's hand fell to his side. The blonde took a deeper breath and rested his head on Harry's firm chest. His own chest heaved uncomfortably, until Harry's returning gentle caresses erased all the tension from his shoulders. He closed his tired eyes and drifted off to sleep.

That night, Harry Potter fell asleep in bed with Draco Malfoy, his arms encircling the injured boy and enjoying the warmth spreading over his chest whenever Draco exhaled. It was the first time he had slept in weeks, and the first time in months that both Harry and Draco dreamt without being plagued by horrifying terrors.

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**A/N**: I had such a blast writing this chapter. Let me know what you think.


	6. A Surprise or Two

**Disclaimer**: All characters and places belong to J.K.Rowling. Not Mine. Not Mine. ...Now? Nope, still not mine.

**A/N**: New Chapter! It's been too long, I apologize. I went to London though! (and I saw Equus grin). Thanks to my betas nycegurl and Oscar! They are my wonderful muses. What would I do without you guys?

**IMPORTANT NOTE (READ FIRST!) :** This is the only chapter that slightly deviates from established canon. Note that here, Harry has already found 5 of the 6 horcruxes.

**Warning**: The slash haassssss arrived! Enjoy! (but it's only the beginning...)

Chapter 6: A Surprise...Or Two

As the poignant chime of the grandfather clock announced one o'clock in the morning, Draco painfully limped his way upstairs with glass of milk in hand. Harry had not visited that night, and as a result (most disturbingly to Draco) the blond found he couldn't fall asleep. Not wishing to wake anyone, and feeling comparatively better, Draco clambered his way through the dark passageways in search of the basement kitchen, feeling eerily as if he was being intensely watched.

Rounding the corner after clumsily climbing the stairs, Draco paused to catch his breath. He _was_ feeling much better; he could walk on his own now, albeit very slowly. He gathered his strength and proceeded to shuffle down the hall, but a sudden noise from behind gave him pause again.

Draco cocked his head, listening intently and squinting in the dim lighting. There didn't appear to be anything or anyone around, so he shrugged it off and continued on.

His mind filled with thoughts of a certain green-eyed brunette, holding him, joking with him, talking to him as if they were finally friends…Draco shook his head. He needed to stop this sudden obsession with Harry Potter. Almost every second of every day, Draco found himself wondering where Harry was, when he would visit him, what Harry was thinking of…It was disgusting, and most definitely unfitting of being a Malfoy!

Draco was almost at his bedroom door when he heard quiet footsteps not far behind. He halted mid-step; there was no doubt in his mind that he was being watched…and followed. Before he could turn around, two strong hands gripped his upper arms and slammed him face first into the wall.

"I know what you're doing, Malfoy", spat a harsh voice in the semi-darkness.

Draco growled and tried to answer but the hands pushed him harder against the wall, leaving no room to breathe, let alone speak.

"Your innocent act may have them all fooled, but not me", whispered Ron with his lips millimeters from Draco's left ear.

"Lay the fuck off Hermione", he warned and he lifted Draco off his feet and slammed his head against the wall again with a sickening crunch. As he let go of the blonde's shirt, Draco swung around and grabbed Ron by his t-shirt, running him into the opposite wall. Ron glanced up and looked momentarily stunned; Draco's face was transformed, his eyes flashing dangerously and his mouth twisted in a spitting snarl.

Draco pushed his face up close to Ron, enjoying the fear flickering in his captive's eyes.

"Just because your friends tolerate you does not mean I have to" spat Draco. "Do you understand me?"

Ron shook his head defiantly. Draco grabbed his wrists and held them above his head as his knee rested between Ron's legs against the wall, threatening great damage. He squeezed Ron's wrists painfully and reiterated.

"Do you fucking understand me? Don't…ever…touch…me"

"As long as you leave Hermione alone…" Ron managed to squeak out.

Draco released one wrist and backhanded Ron hard across the face before he could retaliate, leaving a stinging red imprint and a cringing redhead cowering against the wall.

"What happens between me and Hermione is none of your business". And with those cryptic words, Draco kneed Ron in the crotch and walked away, without looking back at the crumpled figure groaning and twitching on the floor.

* * *

_Earlier that evening…_

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Harry sat at a desk in the study, surrounded by piles of ancient books. He tapped his quill incessantly against his parchment, racking his brain for any clue, any possible answer, to The Problem.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Nothing. Harry groaned and wound back his arm, preparing to chuck the quill as far as it would go across the room. A small hand closed over his fist and stopped him from moving.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Hermione sat down in the chair across from him and moved some of the books aside, looking at Harry with concern.

Harry groaned again and rubbed his eyes. Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Ah. Still working on the horcrux question, I see."

"I just can't figure it out. Just one more, why is this so difficult?"

Hermione smiled sympathetically and reached over to pry the parchment from underneath Harry's elbows.

"Let's go over what we have so far", she said as she bent her head low over Harry's scribbles and pulled out her own quill from her ponytail, sticking it between her teeth.

Harry gaped at her incredulously.

"Hermione, we've been over this a hundred times! If I have to go through the bloody list one more…" he trailed off as he realized she was completely ignoring him.

"There are seven horcruxes in all…six in the outside world and one inhabiting You-Know-Who…"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Stop rolling your eyes, Harry James Potter", Hermione quipped without looking up.

Harry's mouth dropped open. How DID she do that?

Hermione glanced up and smirked at his expression. "Do you even need to ask anymore, Harry?"

"I suppose not" he muttered darkly. He really should be used to this by now…

"Anyway, you've destroyed five of them…Slytherin's Locket…Hufflepuff's cup…Marvolo's ring…Riddle's Diary…Nagini…so that leaves something of either Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…" Hermione glanced up after repeating the list.

"Hermione, I was thinking…d'you reckon…that Dumbledore could have been wrong about that?"

"What do you mean? About what?" replied Hermione.

"About the last horcrux being something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's," said Harry. "We know the sword isn't a horcrux, and there hasn't been anything of Ravenclaw's found…"

"So you're saying we've been searching in the entirely wrong direction."

"Well, I was thinking that maybe it's another something of Slytherin's…"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Why, though? We already have the locket, diary, and ring that comes from that family."

"That's exactly why! Voldemort is OBSESSED with anything to do with Slytherin. Maybe we haven't found anything yet because…there isn't anything from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw to find."

"Hmm. Well, that's definitely an idea to consider. I'll have to do more research, find new books…" she muttered, no longer to Harry. Hermione got up with the quill stuck again in her hair, and began pacing back and forth. Harry watched her with an amused smile on his face.

"What are you smiling about, Harry?"

Harry hid his smile and tried to look innocent.

"Nothing, Hermione…nothing." He coughed and stood up, stretching his arms behind his back. Trust Hermione to get excited about research.

"I'm heading to bed. Night, 'Mione."

Hermione didn't look up and continued pacing. Harry shook his head in amusement and walked out of the library. She never failed to entertain him, that Hermione. At least, she was bound to make more headway than he did. The whole time he was trying to focus on horcruxes, his mind kept turning to the blond in the upstairs bedroom. And every time he thought about Draco, Harry slapped himself on the head.

Clearly, he was spending too much time in Hermione's favorite place and it was driving him off his rocker. Imagine, thinking that way about Draco Malfoy of all people…even if he was good looking…and blond…and quite fit….

Harry blushed and shook his head violently as he entered his bedroom. He needed to figure this new obsession out and get it to stop…as soon as possible.

* * *

_The following morning…_

Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat down roughly on the kitchen stool.

"You look well rested," smirked Draco as he passed him a bowl and a box of cereal.

"Shut up. As if you look perfect at 8 in the morning," retorted Harry as he opened one eye to squint at the blonde next to him.

Draco raised a neat eyebrow.

"Alright, so you always look perfect. We can't all be Sir Draco Malfoy".

"Well, at least you got my name right this time."

"Ha…ha….you're very funny, Malfoy. Hilarious….I'm rolling on the floor." He poured his cereal and milk, and shoved a spoonful in his mouth, chewing noisily.

Draco looked momentarily disgusted, but then returned to his own buttered scone and chose wisely to keep his mouth filled with food.

Ron cleared his throat from across the table. Draco stopped chewing but didn't look up. Ron cleared his throat again, and Harry looked up from his bowl. He turned to Draco, to Ron, and then back to Draco. The blond kept chewing and avoiding his gaze, while Ron was staring daggers across the room. Harry decided it was not safe to question anything this early in the morning and so went back to his breakfast.

"Good morning, Draco!" said a high-pitched giggly voice from the doorway.

Harry glanced up from his bowl and promptly spit out his mouthful of milk. He stared open-mouthed at Hermione Granger standing in the doorway, but it was no Hermione he knew.

This new Hermione was rosy cheeks and peach complexion from the tip of her groomed head to bottoms of her slinky black stilettos. Her usually wild and frizzy hair was tamed to sleek curly perfection, framing her make-up covered face and pouty red-tinged lips. Barely covering her suddenly pushed up chest was the tiniest of strappy tops, of silk material that graced her skin ever so softly. Her hips and thighs were shoved almost rudely into a pair of low rise slim jeans, and her chocolate gaze was glued adoringly to one very pink Draco Malfoy, who found it hard to find an appropriate place upon which to fix his own wide-eyed stare.

"Is there anything I can get you?" crooned Hermione. "Anything at all?"

She rested her elbows on the counter-top and held her head in her hands, leaning towards Draco so that two things Harry never wanted to see in his life were in full view to the blonde and practically everyone else in the room.

Harry coughed. "Hermione…is everything…alright?"

Without taking her gaze off of Draco, Hermione acknowledged Harry's existence.

"Oh…hi, Harry," she replied. "So Draco, how did you sleep? Did you have pleasant dreams?"

Harry couldn't believe it; Hermione Granger was batting her eyelashes at Draco Malfoy! The same Hermione who once punched Draco Malfoy for calling her a mudblood, the same girl who couldn't stand being in the same room as the Slytherin, was flirting and offering herself up on a platter for him! Had the whole world gone mad?!

Harry glanced down at his bowl and sniffed the milk suspiciously, wondering if perhaps it had gone bad and was causing such strange hallucinations. No, it smelled alright; and yes, there was Hermione, all tight trousers and bare midriff. Maybe he had had a bad fall, and no one had bothered to inform him…

And to add to the insanity of it all, there was Draco with his eyes practically glued to Hermione's cleavage! How could he? Harry furrowed his eyebrows and frowned as he watched Draco offer Hermione a seat and whisper to her as if they were the best of mates.

Draco reached out and brushed his finger against the fabric of Hermione's top and she giggled.

Harry looked around at Ron, seeking to share an incredulous look, but found Ron's emotions flickering madly across his face. First, he gaped at Hermione in shock and surprise, his mouth hanging open and excitement shining in his eyes. In seconds, Harry watched as his eyes narrowed dangerously and a purely murderous look thundered upon his features. Harry followed his gaze and realized the murderous look was reserved for the one and only Sir Malfoy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

Before Harry knew what had happened, Ron was on his feet with clenched fists at his sides.

Draco glanced up calmly and opened his mouth, a sarcastic retort ready and waiting, when Hermione interrupted him.

"What do you want, Ronald?"

Ron's face colored and Harry, prophesizing the explosion, backed away from the table.

"He…you…touching…back off…" he spluttered angrily and incoherently.

Hermione's gaze turned cold. "Sit down, Ron. Leave us alone."

She turned back to Draco and smiled prettily. "Would you like some juice with that scone?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Draco looked a little confused and scared. "Erm…Herm—"

Before he could finished his sentence, a strangled cry filled the room and Ron's porcelain cereal bowl exploded, spraying the occupants with droplets of milk. The redhead rose from his chair with rage, his ears and face a vicious shade of red. Harry could almost see the steam rising from the ears and decided this would be the smartest moment to make his escape upstairs.

Ron pushed past him angrily and out the front door as Harry walked out of the kitchen.

"Harry, what happened? I heard a crash and a scream…"

Harry walked around Lupin and onto the stairs, murmuring "see for yourself" before he ran for the safety of the upstairs bedrooms.

* * *

Harry paced the length of Draco's bedroom with stiff strides. Hr crossed the room with the pace of a cheetah stalking its prey, his veins pounding with an unfamiliar and distinctly uncomfortable feeling. His mind kept replaying the scene downstairs …Hermione's outfit, the way she looked at Draco, at _his_ Draco…His Draco? 

Harry stopped still. _His_ Draco? Now he was thinking possessively of Draco Malfoy? Would the madness never cease?

And Hermione…the nerve of her! Right in front of Ron, too. It was completely out of character; Harry didn't even know Hermione _had_ a chest and hips, for sodding's sake. He didn't want to know; what he saw today was far more than necessary.

What about Draco? Harry began to pace again, clenching his fists inside his trouser pockets. Draco was flirting with her! He looked at her adoringly; his face was practically glued to her cleavage! Harry growled with anger. He barely registered the feelings bubbling inside of him; he didn't understand what they meant or where they came from. But the sudden urge to strangle the blond was consuming him as he crossed the room once again.

The door opened behind him but he didn't turn around.

"Oh hey, Harry. What are you doing in here?"

Harry didn't respond; he blew out his breath and continued facing the window.

"Was it just me or was Hermione acting a bit strange earlier?" asked Draco. "Harry? What's up?" He reached over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

Harry whirled around and Draco staggered backwards in shock at the rage he could see in Harry's green eyes.

"Strange? No, I didn't notice, Malfoy," said Harry, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Draco flinched at the sound of his last name. "Malfoy? Why is it Malfoy again?"

Harry pushed him backwards with his right hand. "What was that?"

Draco looked confused. "What was what?"

Harry changed his expression and gazed up at Draco with phony adoration.

"Could I get you something, oh perfect Draco? Anything at all? Juice? My breasts on a silver platter?" he replied in a high pitched imitation of Hermione.

Draco's expression hardened. "That's what I meant by strange, _Potter_."

"What about you, Malfoy?" replied Harry in a low threatening voice. "Suddenly can't keep your hands to yourself?"

"What the hell are you talking about?

"You were all over her!" exploded Harry. "She's one of my best mates! And Ron is the other one. Do you care at all about other people's feelings?"

Draco advanced on Harry. "Is that what _you_ supposedly care about?"

Harry paused in his tirade. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," Draco said as he stepped slowly forward and backed Harry into a wall. "Is it your mates you care about…or yourself?"

"Of course I care about Hermione and Ron. And you just putting your hands all over her…" Harry pushed Draco back.

"Bothers you, huh, Harry?" Draco smirked knowingly. "Ever think about _why_ the thought of my…_touching_…Hermione….bothers you?

Harry growled angrily and swung at Draco, who jumped back just in time.

"Denial doesn't suit you, Harry." Harry swung again and caught Draco's lip in a sharp punch.

Draco reeled back and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Neither does jealousy," he said as he charged the brunette and knocked him off his feet.

"I'm…not…fucking…jealous…" managed Harry as he struggled underneath Draco's weight. "Why the hell would I be jealous?"

He pushed up but it was no use; Draco held his wrists fast against the floor as he straddled the smaller boy.

"You've got quite the temper there, Potter."

"Get off me."

"See…I don't think you really mean that."

Harry scoffed. "What makes you say that?"

Draco wiggled his hips where he sat. "Let's just say...your _significant_ other… speaks for himself."

Harry flushed and pushed harder against his wrists. "Get the fuck off me!"

Draco leaned down so that his face was inches from Harry's own.

"What's the matter, Potter?" whispered Draco seductively. "Too much...contact...for you?"

Draco looked into his green eyes and saw something change, like a fog passing on and revealing a glowing moon. He recognized the surrender shining out of them earnestly.

Harry sat up abruptly, taking Draco by surprise and landing him in the brunette's lap. Harry leaned up close, breathing lightly onto Draco's lips until the hairs on the back of the blonde's neck stood up.

"Not enough," replied Harry in a whisper and he closed the distance between them, capturing Draco's lips in a searing kiss.


End file.
